


I Know You're Not a Party Animal

by TheRoseDuelist



Series: The Apprentice Reversed [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Heavy Angst, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseDuelist/pseuds/TheRoseDuelist
Summary: Your patience is wearing thin.
Relationships: Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader, Lucio (The Arcana)/You, Portia Devorak/Nadia
Series: The Apprentice Reversed [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567798
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	I Know You're Not a Party Animal

“I had them make you a mermaid outfit, that way you could match my king of the sea costume!” Lucio grins at you, the smile a combination of eagerness and smirk. **  
**

You smile back weakly. “Thank you, Lucio. That’s very…thoughtful.”

“Well, I won’t have my guest of honor not properly illuminated.” He sniffs. He nudges the box on the bedspread, waiting for you to open it.

You know the costume and matching mask will be beautiful. Lucio has the most refined taste when it comes to fashion. Imaginative as well. And the gift is thoughtful, you have to admit.

That doesn’t change the fact that you really don’t want to attend this party. It will be the fourth party this month alone, and Lucio has one more planned before the month’s end. Since the defeat of the Devil and regaining his body, Lucio is hellbent on celebrating his reinstatement to the corporeal world. Or as he calls it, “making up for lost time”. 

Nadia isn’t making any attempts to temper his frivolity. She is absorbed in her romance with Portia. Valerius is left to deal with budgeting and running the city. Resentful to the former, pleased to the latter.

Which leaves you to supervise Lucio. You are lovers. You are wrapped up in one another, spending many of the waking hours together, with the exception of when you need to run your shop or Lucio is forced to attend to government matters.

But to be honest, you are becoming increasingly tired of all the balls and parties. However, it is difficult to say no when those big blue eyes gaze upon you with eagerness and devotion, desiring your approval.

You just can’t say no.

Plastering on a smile, you remove the top of the box and pull out the costume. It is a myriad of sea greens and blues, turquoise jewels sewn into the silk in intricate patterns, illuminating its elegance. And the mask too is a canvas of navy and dark green peppered with sapphires that accentuates your eyes.

“These are wonderful, Lucio. Thank you.” You lay the garment back on the bedspread, take his hand and squeeze.

“I knew you’d love it,” he beams. Then he drops his smile. “I need to get ready for tonight. I’ll see you out there.” He winks at you, kisses your hand, and strides out of the room with a sweep of his cape.

Your heart sighs in your chest. Despite his flair of the dramatic, you love him every bit. You love his laugh, the innocence beneath the layers of exaggerated confidence, the vulnerability that he shows only to you. And though he has done unforgivable things in the past, he is constantly making amends for his actions. Trying to anyway. And you recognize that and appreciate how far he has come and how he desires to do good in the world. Not to simply impress you, but to genuinely help those less fortunate. 

A small part of you has not yet forgiven him for his part in your death — well, the fact that he is the reason you died — and you know it would take time. That doesn’t stop you from loving him.

But it does keep you from giving your whole self to him. Lucio doesn’t know that though. It would hurt him and that is the last thing you wish to do. Even if you haven’t fully forgiven him.

The next hour you spend preparing for the ball. You style your hair, run kohl over your eyes, brush your teeth, color your lips. Last, you slide the garment over your head and let it fall down your body. It’s soft and comfortable. It shifts around your figure in a pleasing way. You then pull on the bottoms and examine yourself in the mirror. You smile. It’s exquisite. You’re exquisite.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You wonder what Lucio’s costume looks like and everything in you urges to run to his door and see. You want to know how the two of you match. How he has made the world know that you belong to one another. It is irresistible, the yearning.

Almost.

You sigh and shake your head. You know very well that he wants it to be a surprise. He wants to see your eyes light up at the sight of him. And you don’t mind. You do love the constant anticipation, the eagerness that gnaws away in your gut. He makes things exciting, unpredictable. He is always brewing up an exciting rendevous or planning to whisk you away on a romantic interlude. He makes you feel cherished. Warm. Loved. 

And because of that, you’re willing to make sacrifices. Like going to this party.

A groan escapes your lips and you open the bottle of wine that sits on your desk and pour yourself a drink. To get through this evening, you’re most definitely going to need a bit of an edge. 

The wine sinks into your gut as you gulp down half of the glass and you grow warm. A pleasant sensation but you need to do something more to pass the time until the ball begins.

You take a seat at your desk, pull out your journal and begin writing. It’s a habit you acquired since the battle from the Devil. There is no rhyme or reason for it. Just one day you picked up an empty journal and began writing. Writing your thoughts, your feelings, the events of the day. There is something in you that wants to record life and preserve your legacy.

Maybe because you lost your years from before the plague. You don’t want to lose them again although you know the chances of something like that happening ever again are minimal to none.

That doesn’t mean the fear evaporates.

Delicately, you flip through the pages, your eyes skimming over the ink that has covered them. You stop on the most recent entry. A week earlier. The evening before the third party.

Your words are full of indifference. The party was a smaller gathering with a group of nobles you did not care for. They were stuffy and were indifferent to the rest of the people in the kingdom. You’d told Lucio so and he had responded that if any of them upset you during the course of the evening there would be consequences. You tried to explain to him that wasn’t the issue but he hadn’t heard you. His attention had been captured by the chamberlain’s question of what color curtains to put up in the sitting room for the evening’s festivities.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you feel the reluctance to attend this evening’s party reappear from the shadows of your mind. You push it away. It doesn’t matter what you feel. You will do it for him because it is important for you to support the one you love. 

Your mood is still spoilt. Shutting your journal, you pour another glass of wine. You need liquid encouragement.

Moving to the balcony, you gaze out over the city. It’s a sea of sparkles. That’s what Lucio called it when he first looked upon Vesuvia after his return. 

It was sweet, the way his eyes had brightened and his smile had glowed. The pure joy in his countenance had touched your heart. It reminded you of the purity he still retained, the childlike awe that remained intact underneath the masque of confidence. 

But flipping the coin on that was his desire to indulge. 

The alcohol continues to flood through your body, and you feel it seep through your blood. You tilt your head back and close your eyes feeling the buzz. The beautiful warmth. The numbing of your emotions. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d had a drink before these events. A voice in the back of your head whispers if you might start depending on it. You tell yourself you won’t. You’re stronger than that. You aren’t like the drunks at the Rowdy Raven who come back night after night to forget their problems and struggles. Your life isn’t a struggle; it’s the opposite.

You live in a palace. Your lover is the Count. He is attentive and thoughtful and enthusiastic to please. You have kind and supportive friends and you have a second chance. Your life is wonderful.

Right?

A knock at the door pulls you away from such perilous thoughts. You move across the room and open to door to find the chamberlain.

“Excuse me, Y/N. But the party is about to begin. The Count requests your presence.”

You follow him into the hallway. You’ve been summoned.

That is not something you care for. But you know it is mainly to humor Lucio’s desire to surprise you. Still, it makes you feel like a subject at his beck and call. Not a partner. Not an equal. You’ll have to tell him tomorrow.

Warmth still coating your system, you arrive in the ballroom to see dozens of guests, all dressed in marvelous refinery chatting, laughing, joking, awaiting the arrival of their host.

“Well, you look lovely, Y/N.” You turn to see Julian with his roguish grin dressed in a navy blue suit wearing a silver bird mask. “I take it that was hand-picked for you?”

“Whatever could give you that idea?” You joke.

“I assume we’ll eventually see him.” Another voice muses. Swiveling, you come face to face with Asra, who wears lavender robes and a golden fox mask.

There is an edge in his voice but you have long since resigned yourself to the fact that he would never quite be okay with your relationship with Lucio. You don’t rise to the bait. You merely shrug and sip your wine.

“I swear if he takes another ten minutes I will go up there and drag him down myself.” Portia huffs, flouncing over to your growing group. She winks at you, her permed auburn curls shaking from side to side with the golden tassels on her orange cat’s mask and the fringes of her mahogany, heavily petticoated gown.

“I’d say you could lose your job for a comment like that but the Countess will protect her pet,” Julian sneers.

“Watch it.” Portia smacks his knee.

Julian yelps. A few of the other guests glance your way, unamused, then resume their conversations.

You roll your eyes internally. They think they can turn their noses up at you and yet you’re all the reason that these people are living free and not under the Devil’s rule. These nobles know nothing, spending their days indulging in luxury created by the working class without any thought to them. And you have to spend an entire evening in their company.

A waiter passes by and you wave him over. You and the others each take a glass (you replace the glass you’re holding). 

“Where is she anyway?” Asra inquires.

“Well, it appears they’re going to enter together…” Portia purses her lips. “Something about showing a unified front or something to the nobles cause they’ve been a pain in the arse when it comes to court.” She glances at you, shifting uneasily from side to side. “It was Valerius’ idea. Neither of theirs.”

Your grip tightens around your drink. Now, this is a new development. It’s not the fact that there is something happening between them. It’s the fact that none of the three felt the need to inform you.

But that’s because you don’t matter. You’re not part of the government, therefore why should they? And yet Nadia told Portia. Lucio should have told you when he dropped off the costume.

Maybe he didn’t because he didn’t want you to be mad before the party. You weren’t exactly the jealous type but you weren’t the not-jealous type either. It is complicated, in a word.

You hold your cup up to your friends, your tone jovial. “A toast. To the good health of our Count and Countess, and a lovely night ahead.”

You clink goblets and you sip. Your eyes meet Julian’s and he gives you a wicked smile. He can see right through you.

You don’t care.

A trumpet blares and everyone winces.

“It looks like they’ve arrived.” Asra grimaces. He reaches out and squeezes your hand, offering you small comfort and you give him an artificial smile of gratitude.

He doesn’t see through it. Not that that surprises you. Even after his promises of putting you first and not leaving you for his own excursions, he is still wrapped up in himself. And it doesn’t bother you since you have Lucio.

Or at least...when you feel like Lucio treats you like his partner.

The lights extinguish in the ballroom, the darkness smothering your vision. Then at the top of the grand staircase, two spotlights come to life. Lucio and Nadia stand arm in arm, all smiles, their refinery glittering in the yellow light.

The crowd cheers around you, enthralled as they descend. Lucio and Nadia wave as they arrive at the ballroom floor. 

Nadia unlinks from Lucio and steps into the center of the room. “Good evening, friends. Thank you for joining us. Tonight, we celebrate the bounty the ocean provides for our city, as well as the freedom it gives us.”

Lucio joins her, most definitely not to be upstaged. “And of course, your wonderful Count and Countess!” he winks. “But really, this night is for all of you. Enjoy!”

Candles are lit and colored lights of blues and greens reflect off the walls, creating an underwater quality to the atmosphere. You have to admit that it’s quite artistic.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Portia bumps your hip with hers and you nod politely. But you flick your gaze back to Lucio and he is, once again, arm in arm with Nadia, greeting the members of the nobility. They laugh with a couple dressed in rainbow colors and sequins.

The green fire flares to life within you and you drink more wine.

“I hear music in the other room. Let’s go dance while they schmooze.” Julian takes your hand and pulls you away from the object of your ire.

Soon he whisks you into an adjacent ballroom and spins you into a waltz. You hum, blissful, as he turns you around the room. You love to dance and it wipes away all of the negative emotions within you. Twirling, you look into Julian’s eyes with silent thanks. He always knows how to make you smile. Even though his self-deprecation bothers you.

The song ends and you separate. “Thank you. That was lovely.”

“Anything for my dearest friend,” Julian winks. Then he spots Nazali enter the room. “Ah! My fellow physician! If you’ll excuse me.” He bows to you and glides away.

Alone, you listen as the band starts the next song, finding yourself on the edge of the dance floor. A few guests eye you curiously. You wonder if anyone is going to ask you to dance. Likely not.

It’s disappointing.

You could ask one of them to dance. But chances are they won’t accept because they don’t know how Lucio would react. He’s very possessive, famously so. Though he knows you only have eyes for him. 

Resigned, you glide out of the room and head into the next one: the banquet hall. Guests mix and mingle holding plates of appetizers and glasses of champagne. It’s all very posh.

The desserts call to you and you mosey over, picking out a few tiny cheesecakes and eagerly stuffing them in your mouth. After all, the wine is working in your body and you feel hungrier than normal.

You step away, closing your eyes, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. Divine. That’s the only word to describe it. Of course, the cooks will go all out; the Count demands it.

He demands a lot of things.

“Delicious, I see.”

You open your eyes to see Asra grinning at you. Months ago, you would have been embarrassed by your display. Defeating the Devil though has given you some self-confidence. Not that Asra really nurtured that ever.

Maybe you harbor some resentment towards him for not telling you about your life before. Just maybe.

“You should try them!” You say. A bit overly enthusiastic. You really don’t have the energy for small talk.

He takes a small cake and pops it into his mouth. “I could eat these for days,” he says between bites.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You take another and devour it as quickly as possible. 

“So how are you doing? Adjusting to court life?” He asks. You can hear the genuine concern in his voice.

That’s not something you’re interested in discussing. In fact, you don’t have any desire to talk with him about the subject in the first place.

And you certainly don’t appreciate his probing.

“Just like these cheesecakes. It’s delightful.” You laugh. You’ve perfected the fake laugh. You use it often at these events.

“Good. I’m glad.” This time you can hear the disappointment in his voice though he tries to coat it with relief. He wants you to come back to the shop. To him. To be his “partner”.

“I need to find Lucio, but maybe we can catch up later?” You ask.

“I’d like that.”

You give him a quick hug to reassure him you mean well and step out of the room, fully aware you have zero intention of finding him later.

Now you find yourself in the plant room. For some reason, Lucio has decided to bring the palace gardens indoor. For what reason you cannot fathom. But it seems that it’s not just a recreation of nature in the confines of the stone palace, but rather a relaxing lounge where guests can partake in recreational...drugs. You see guests lounging on chaises and sofas, inhaling hookah from pipes. 

You wrinkle your nose. You have no interest in such things, and you immediately exit back into the main ballroom.

Your eyes sweep over the crowd, spotting Portia and Nadia off to the side, conversing with her large family. Then you catch sight of Lucio, regaling another group of nobles with stories of his mercenary days. No doubt they’ve heard them multiple times, but they all soak it up like it’s the first time. They play devotees to become his favorites.

You’ve told him this multiple times and he assures you he knows. He just delights in making them think their cheap shots are working. You laughed when he told you of his deviousness, but now it’s just annoying that he encourages the behavior. 

“Y/N. You look stunning!” You turn to greet a flock of noblewomen. You grimace inwardly but offer a welcoming smile. Time to play your part as the Count’s consort.

An hour ticks by, then two, as you placate the upper class, listening to their genteel concern, showing fake sympathy, and offering to support however you can. You even invite them to your shop, which you cringe once the words are out of your mouth for that is your one safe space. But doing this for Lucio will earn him favor with these parasites. And he’ll appreciate it.

As time passes though, you grow lonely, needy. You still haven’t had any time with Lucio. He’s spent it all schmoozing with the courtiers and entertaining the visiting foreign dignitaries. It annoys you, but more so disappoints you. You take a nearby wine goblet from a waiter and drink half in one go to dull the dejection.

Finally, you’re able to excuse yourself from the interminable conversation with the aristocrats, and you weave through the crowd towards your lover. When you near, you find him in the middle of a debate about...well you don’t care to hear. You just want some of his time. Maybe a dance. And then you will — reluctantly — step away so he can go back to his adoring public.

You wait patiently behind him until the argument comes to an end, then you tap him on the shoulder. He whirls around to face you and his whole being lights up.

“There you are!” He gives you the up and down and smiles from ear to ear. “You look amazing. Just how I pictured it. Except much better.” He winks.

You take his hand and pull him close. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Y/N.” He runs a finger along your jawline and you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

“Can we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

“In a little while, my dove.” He coos. “I just have some more business to attend to. Go enjoy the party and I’ll come find you soon.”

You frowned. “Lucio, please? I’ve been through all the rooms and have talked with the nobles for a few hours. I would like a break from it. Preferably with you.”

“I know you’re not a party animal, but can’t you just do this for me?” He huffs. “After all, I was dead and it was awful and I’m trying to make up for the lost time.”

It feels like a punch to your gut, his snap. You suck in your lips. Anger pushes your empty hand to clench into a fist, while hurt grows a lump in your throat.

Of course, you want him to enjoy life after his suffering in purgatory. Of course, you want to encourage him. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Now you’re alone and all you want is ten minutes of his time. Or just five minutes. For him to say this to you, to accuse you of not doing your duty to attend to the guests and his command to enjoy the party...that is too much.

So be it.

You plaster on a smile, down the rest of your wine, and give him a wink.

“That’s my Y/N.” He gave you a peck on the cheek. “Save me a dance.”

And with that, he turned back to the suppliants.

You spin around and drop the smile. Sliding between bodies, you make your way to the exit. Your eyes see Asra and Julian in conversation only a few feet from your position, and you change your direction. You are done with this charade. You have no more capacity to pretend it is all fine. You know you are inconsolable. Successfully, you avoid being spotted by your friends and steal out of the ballroom.

Your heart crunches painfully in your chest as you storm down the hallway. How dare he make you feel guilty. How dare he make you feel as though you’re being irrational, clingy, selfish.

The nerve of him. How fucking dare he.

You duck into the kitchen. It doesn’t matter to you that the servants will later whisper of your early exit from the party. He will no doubt hear of it too. Passing a servant pouring more wine goblets, you stop and grab another. And you down it. Immediately you feel the liquid burn through you and you savor it. You want to numb the pain away. Numb it all away.

Hugging your sides, you shuffle back to your room and lock the door behind you. He’ll come to your door later upon hearing that you left. He’ll knock and see if you're there. And when you don’t respond, then he’ll realize how unhappy you were. And he’ll apologize.

Normally, you would let him in. This time you don’t plan too.

Tears dot your eyes and you brush them away, feeling your body start to give into the misery. A strangled sob escapes your mouth. All you want to do is please him. All you want to do is have your partner, the one who fought at your side to rid the world of evil. He’s still there. But in these instances...you can see he’s regressing.

Your stomach drops and you cry, covering your mouth to smother the sounds. You’re waiting for the wine to fully kick in. To dull your emotions and then transform them into nothing but indifference. Apathy. To make you feel absolutely nothing but the buzzing sensation in your blood, the high of detachment.

You grab the open wine bottle on your desk, slump to the ground, and drink. The door to the balcony is still open and you can see the city from your spot. 

The sea of sparkles.

Your tears continue to fall, but your sobs die as you watch the lights shine in the darkness. Resignation washes over you. Perhaps this is how it will be from now on. In the waking hours, you’ll explore the countryside with Mercedes and Melchior, sunbathe by the pool, visit the festivals in nearby towns, sneak to the Rowdy Raven ever so often. Enjoy one another completely, just the two of you. Then in the evenings, you attend his parties, galas, events, balls. Play nice with the loathsome court members. Indulge him. Do exactly all the things that you don’t want to do. All because you love him.

Someone told you once that love is sacrifice. You didn’t believe it then. You thought it was about compromise. But now, maybe you do. Maybe this is how your second chance plays out. 

So you put the bottle back to your lips and drink. 


End file.
